It’s hard for me to love other people. It’s even harder for me to love myself.
I was driving home from work Monday evening and I had just angrily hung up the phone. A woman had called me from a company that did some work at my house a few years ago. I didn’t like the way the company was handling its business with me, but it was nothing personal with the woman.
The thing that annoyed me wasn’t her fault. She was just reading a script. She was doing her job. But I was in a bad mood — and I took out my frustrations on her.
I wasn’t nasty or rude, but I certainly wasn’t kind or loving.
As I drove the rest of the way down I-459 toward home, I stewed in my irritation, but my annoyance quickly turned toward myself. I wasn’t upset with that woman or her company.
I lectured myself about being a hypocrite. I berated myself about my unwillingness to live up to my values when it wasn’t convenient — when I wasn’t in the right mood.

Do you know your heart’s desire? Or are you just chasing a mirage?
Don’t be shocked if insane system produces narcissistic leaders
Without God, my unloving heart can’t truly love unlovable people
Politics won’t mend our world, but mending ourselves has power
The goals we chase can become chains that hold us in bondage
This burning question divides us: Why can’t you people be like me?
What really matters in life? Hardly any of the things we worry about
Time and maturity have changed
I’m writing a book — and I’ll be talking about it as it progresses